In this ceaseless, surprising journey,
it seems unthinkable
that you could ever flicker out.

You drift through thoughts,
piercing the event horizon,
touching the impossible,
deflecting off the wall.

You turn back along cosmic paths,
your photons comprehend
the nature of who we are—
a sum of chance and fate,
woven into living threads,
floating endlessly
in the tender night.

In your eyes, I see my own.
I waited so long
for your presence to become real.

In that crucial moment,
I felt something
changing my awareness,
and the soundless vessels were filled
with joyful abundance—
colored by
pain and sadness
that time goes so fast
in underrated moments.

Materializing all these silent dreams,
this one little girl who is growing,
watching me with defenseless trust
like nobody has before.
Gestures, smiles, brief anger, and talks—
I gather them in endless memory.

Sweet Melody, my Purpose
from the first breath,
you chose me,
and I felt beautifully complete.

I know that a real journey
begins through terra incognita
Every day is surprisingly different.
I accept with relief my passing.
I see your blooming wisdom
in thinking smiles, and authentic recognition.

My Daughter, I want to give  
as much love and acceptance as you need.
Taking your hand and letting you go
when you’re ready
to walk into life on your own—
watching the indigo sky.
Breathing freely, without anxiety.
After each fall, another resurrection comes.

I am here, I hope to stay a long while
to finally return to my last home,
without fear, with some tears.
Please, keep embracing this existence
with good and lost people around.
Be sure that I will smile
in your still-beating heart
giving you warmth.
.

(The things I ask of myself while sitting in the dark)

I shoulder the borders of everything . . .
of the nothingness trapped inside the air . . . is Atlas crushed ?

All the holy mole of mountains that I've stumbled over , am I saying I never really cared ?

The indentations of life ,
the craters that I plunge carelessly into . . . can I crawl my way back out ?

That sentence in the book of life ignored returns , was it just to haunt me . . .
or is it a reaping of the sorrow that I chose to sew ?

A toxic attitude , from the grapes of wrath , has it aged well in the bottles of time  . . . do I keep drinking up the past ?

Twisting around it's not the worthy that I find

Yet . . .

A finite year of imperfection it surely was
that indeed .

This thought has always haunted me.

People you meet once
and never again in your life.

You have a static picture in your mind
of their face
the small conversation
their little story they tell you
the place you met them
in a bus, a shop, on the road
interactions not long
but meaningfully small
yet leaving a memory in you.

I think of all those people
I stopped by to ask for time
seek direction of my destination
or asking where I might find
food or a resting place
in an unfamiliar area.

Once and just once you meet them.

On a summer trip, I was looking for icecream
in a strange place off the highway
walked ten minutes to find a shop
where for that brief encounter
the seller made me feel like
he had known me for long
shared the history of that area
the migration and culture of the residents
before helping me with the right icecream.

Sometimes I wonder
if they would have enriched my life
were they part of my association.

Not scholars, not rich, but simple men
who bring you down to earth
and carve a space in your mindscape.

Sadly you meet them once in your life.

I feel it's so designed.

I stand by the sea and watch the sky turn into a lovely shade of April blue.  I see big old trees dotting the edge of the horizon and a lovely red sunset.  I can only imagine who the man upstairs is and how he has managed to create such a beautiful landscape here on earth...  Let alone the heavens!
Oh my stars !!!
you don't belong in jars  
Father shines you from afar  
I scoop a bit of water in my hands then watch it clump the sand.  Drawing my knees up to my chest I lift my head to watch Selene, Goddess of the moon  raising a glassy white moon with her arms.  It is a natural moon, pouring out light onto a blessed hour of darkness, and so I give Him thanks and praise!        
Her dress, a gown of clouds
puffed up like a shroud
Misty colored, never loud
"If I could, I would fetch you the moon on a spoon." I say to the ether of His quiet.  Then as if by magic a streak of silver appears, mirroring the aging gray hair on my head.  What else in life can make you feel as good as when God's world suddenly melts inside of you? What else can claim your soul the way the stars and the moon do,  ... let alone the ocean view !
By: Mystic Rose

heart of sadness
follows the eyes
of madness
into the scream of night.

who dares to dream
in a starless night?

war and peace then war and love

and all nightmares are real
staring into

a starless night,

and all we have
are the flames
stolen from a screaming night,
and all we have are each other.